For Life
by MiaGhost
Summary: Wraith's hungover, she has feelings, and she wishes people would stop making incorrect assumptions. (Even if she kind of wishes they were right.) Part 1 of For Life, For Love, For Blood and Glory.


~.~

Wraith woke and instantly knew where she was, despite the thumping in her head and the way her stomach squirmed. She made sure to breathe long and slow, opening her eyes. The room was still in darkness, courtesy of the blackout blind she was always grateful for. Half of her view in the dimness was filled with the grey presence of the pillow her face was buried in, but the other half was taken up by the shadow of the lamp on the bedside table, the book he was reading - hardly a book, more a textbook on some weird branch of holo-technology, - left propped open by his watch.

The bookcase clutter was as it always was, a deserted mug the only new edition since she'd been there last. The yelling, for she realised that was what had woken her, continued. He sounded… Frustrated. Her stomach flipped and she struggled to hold its contents down. There was a painful edge of pleading in his tone too. Her heart sank as she sat up, wincing at the spinning room.

She slid out of the bed, a small part of her twanging at leaving the comfort and soothing familiar smell of the room as she made her way into the hall on socked feet.

"Don't even _try_ to come up with another one of your _lies_! At least have the decency to be honest with me!"

Wraith stepped into the doorway, resting one hand on the frame to help her combat the wobbly feeling in her legs. The shouting was feeding her headache firecrackers. Her insides were clenching and churning, and she did her best not to throw up on the carpet as she looked at the two of them in confusion. Before she could find her voice, the room fell quiet as they noticed she was there.

Katie made a deliberate show of looking Wraith up and down, something that by itself made Wraith's skin crawl. The fact that the derisive gaze was accompanied by a deep sneer only made her prickle further. She felt vaguely exposed in the old shirt even though it swamped her small frame, wishing she'd accepted the offering of shorts the night before. Or worn her own leggings out. A faint and uncommon heat rose to her face. Once an idea was in one of his girlfriend's heads about her, there wasn't anything she could say that would really convince them otherwise, so she didn't bother trying.

"God, you're not even subtle."

"Katie…"

"Save it," the blonde snapped, her face whipping around to glare at him, "You've said enough."

Wraith bristled at her friend being spoken to like that, but bit her tongue. It wasn't her fight, she shouldn't interfere. Instead, she tried for calm. Defusing.

"What's going on?"

He turned to her with a pained, exhausted expression, and she knew before he spoke the words. Again.

"Katie thinks we're sleeping together."

She burned instantly with both irritation and impatience, sick of hearing people saying shit like that. She swallowed hard at the tiny, tiny spark of longing. She opened her mouth, but what came out was-

"I'm gonna be sick."

And she darted to the bathroom just in time to slam shut the door and empty her stomach into the bathtub.

It wasn't long till the soft knock at the door drew a weary sound from her throat. That was a bad sign. He opened it slowly, leaving it ajar as he crept in to sit on the floor next to her. She didn't raise her head from where it pressed against the cool of the enamel, and neither said anything for a long moment.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't reply.

"I should have gone home. I just… I'm sorry."

The quiet was uncomfortable, and it wasn't lost on her that that was rare these days. She turned her face to the side to look at him with one eye. He looked drained, his unfocused gaze fixed somewhere on the wall behind the bath. Guilt seeded in her stomach, aggravating the acids she felt so full of. Her gorge rose again, and she lifted her chin to rest it on the edge of the bath, waiting to see if she was going to throw up.

_Shouldn't have had so much._

She winced, and scowled weakly. Very helpful, she noted. The moment dragged on.

_He's been quiet a while._

She turned to look at him, and hated how it made her feel to see the faint sorrow in his expression. This was an intimacy she'd never wanted, one she'd never expected, despite all the signs. Despite all the warnings.

"Elliot?" she croaked, throat still raw from vomiting, "Are you okay?"

He turned to look at her, the amber brown of his eyes clearing as he did. He gave her a faint smile.

"Would you be?" he asked, a familiar amusement dancing across his mouth and amazing her, as it often did, "If the idea of sleeping with you made someone lose their lunch?"

She couldn't help it, she couldn't. The amusement wriggled up her windpipe and escaped in a cracked snort, jostling her uneasy truce with her gut. His mouth curved a little more, and he had that same smug gleam in his eyes that she had once so loathed. It was chasing away that painful sadness.

"You missed the toilet." he commented innocently, only his eyes teasing her, and she groaned.

"It was that or the floor." she insisted.

His chuckle was gentle, but warmed the room in that way it could.

"I know you're hungover and everything, but you're _so_ cleaning that."

She huffed, but didn't disagree. That was more than fair. He patted her shoulder as he got to his feet, stretching up and yawning, the muscles of his back rolling as he did. The freshest of his scars was dark and pink against his ribs, and Wraith couldn't stop the memory of him receiving the wound as it sprang unbidden, her brain supplying information she didn't need, or particularly want.

"I'll make coffee."

Wraith swallowed the pitiful, grateful sound that wanted to escape in reply.

"Thanks."

He chuckled again as he reached the door, throwing her one of his most gaudy, flirtatious grins.

"I know, I know. I'm the best. Even if sleeping with me makes you puke."

The roll of her eyes only widened his grin.

As she listened to him walk down the hallway, Wraith's gaze found the shower head, and she sighed. She did her best not to look at the (mostly translucent) mess in the bottom of the tub, cringing at the noise and vibration of the spray as she hosed it down.

As usual, he'd been right last night. She probably _should_ have eaten before her impromptu binge, but she hadn't. She'd drank so much that she wasn't even sure if it would have been a help or a hinderance. She frowned at the knowledge that if she'd drank less and gone home, he wouldn't have just been dumped. Again.

She slotted the shower head back into its holster and slid back down onto the floor again, returning her forehead to the soothing chill of the tub edge. The bathroom rug under her was vaguely damp, and she could faintly remember taking a shower the night before. She often forgot, now that they had been squad mates and were friends, now they were in a place where she was comfortable being around his place, that maybe it wasn't really socially appropriate that she spent so much time there. It wasn't even always intentional, sometimes it just… happened.

Sometimes she was blackout wasted and feeling like she was drowning and the only thing that eased it was being somewhere safe. Somewhere that smelled like security, somewhere familiar and- and-

She scowled against the enamel at her inability to put a word to the sensation that felt so much like belonging, ignoring the pang in her chest that was becoming so frequent these days. It was like their onsite barracks during Games seasons, but… different. More. More tangible, more… more _intimate_. She dug her fingers into the soft texture of the rug in an attempt to ground herself. She was drowning again, losing herself.

The stupid headache wasn't helping, like blunt sticks digging into the soft tissue behind her eyes. This was all her fault, and she felt a surge of shame deep in her belly. She needed to stop ruining his life like this.

The worn cotton of the shirt shifted against her skin, brushing the familiar smell into the air. She hated that it calmed her. She hated it and she needed it, that foothold. That anchor.

She sensed the movement, and then he was creeping back into the room, pausing in the doorway. She didn't turn to look at him, even though she knew he was there. Eventually he breathed a soft sigh and settled next to her again. His skin was warm, so warm that she could feel it across the inches between their legs. She'd never been so aware that her skin was exposed.

"How you feeling?"

She could only chuckle darkly in response. His own laugh was gentle and warm.

"That good, huh?"

"Elliot…" she hadn't meant to say anything, his name on her tongue without command.

He waited, but she couldn't find anymore words.

"Wasn't going to last anyway. She doesn't get holo-tech." he murmured, with that streak of amusement she could never understand could survive everything.

She turned her face to raise an eyebrow at him, but she shrugged and gave her that same old easy grin.

"Sometimes you know when it's not the real thing. That you just gotta enjoy it while it lasts."

For a moment he just held her gaze, and try as she might she couldn't find a hint of a lie in his cocoa eyes.

"How?" she asked, regretting it instantly, "How do you know?"

He deliberated, looking genuinely surprised and undecided. She watched the light from the hall dance along the highlights in his hair, unstyled and loose in the late morning of their rare weekend off.

"I don't think there's one real way that you know. You just… You feel it, y'know?"

His eyes spoke to her in that way they'd formed, forged in battle, and she tried her best to read them. He shrugged again, smiling ruefully.

"Or you don't. And you gotta choose whether it's worth chasing anyway, when you already know."

He looked away, but Wraith saw the flash of pain in his eyes, and she knew that even if what he said was true, he was hurting anyway.

If he were her, he'd want to reach out right then. He'd catch himself, of course, and wouldn't really touch her, not properly, but he'd still move instinctively, to comfort her. To reassure her. She battled the unsettled burn in her chest as she reached out, laying her palm lamely on his wrist, squeezing gently.

His eyes moved up automatically, catching her by surprise with his gaze, and the moment hung for a heartbeat longer than felt real. He blinked, and it was over, and she withdrew her hand, feeling stupid.

"I'm still sorry." she said, and his rueful smile returned.

"I know," he reassured her, and she was sure he'd done it better than her measly attempt, "I know."

She lifted her head a little, resting the weight of her cheek against the tub to ease the crick that was starting to settle in her neck muscle.

"You look good in that shirt, by the way."

She tried her best to narrow her eyes at him, but he was far too pleased with himself to even pretend he wasn't. His eyes were bright with mirth, and gods help her if it didn't make her ache. But she swallowed it down, and she met his smirk with a shadow of her own.

"You know, if you don't want your girlfriends to hate me, you shouldn't dress me in your old clothes."

She dared, a sense she hoped was right telling her to push, just that little bit. Relief flooded her when he barked a surprised laugh, his whole demeanour lighting up as though she'd said the best thing he'd heard in weeks. When his grin returned, it was real and deep, and she felt better to see it.

"Girlfriends come and go," he winked, "but a good squad mate is for life."

Even the disappointed pang in her chest was pale that time when compared to the light that seemed to shine in his eyes when he said that so sincerely.

"For life." she repeated, and it tasted sweet on her tongue.

Elliot's smile softened, and for just a second Wraith could hear the whisper of another time, another her, where another Elliot spoke those words against her skin. It echoed as she watched him form the words again.

"For life."

~.~


End file.
